


After Hours

by your_belle



Category: The Voice RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 22:03:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_belle/pseuds/your_belle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam and Blake sneak into NBC because Adam is one kinky bastard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Hours

“What the hell are we doing?” Blake looked around the set, trailing behind Adam.

“You’ll see,” the grin Blake received was beyond mischievous. It was late at night, several hours after they finished taping for the day and now they’re back, sneaking around the stage of The Voice.

“Do I even want to know how you were able to get us in here?” He felt the need to whisper, worried that there might be someone lurking around to catch them. They may be part of the show but that doesn’t give them the right to be snooping, or whatever it is that they’re doing at the studio, late at night without supervision, or more importantly, permission.

“Eh, probably not,” Adam only shrugged.

“And how the hell did you know how to turn on all these dang lights?” He looked around the set that he’s gotten very familiar with.

“I talk to people. Scope the place out for fun.” Blake was about the ask further but Adam was swiftly steering him to his chair. “Yeah let’s do this in your chair.”

“Do what exactly?” He sat down, getting comfortable in his seat like he always does.

“Fuck,” Adam smirked, Blake only looked at him in confusion.

“What happened? Did you forget something?” He tilted his head in question.

Adam only chuckled, “No, I didn’t forget anything,” stepping up onto the chair, “we’re gonna fuck,” he straddled Blake’s lap, “in your chair,” arms wrapping around his neck.

“Oh,” Blake has no idea why he feels so scandalized and turned on by the fact. “You dragged me out here, just to get laid?” He watched as Adam peeled his own shirt off his body, throwing it to Usher’s chair.

“Yeah,” Adam answered, fingers working the buttons of his shirt. “Is that a problem?” Leaning in to kiss along his throat. “Cause we can go home and not fuck.” Sliding the shirt off Blake’s shoulders.

“No, it’s okay. Not a problem,” Of course he would agree, because sex with Adam is awesome but, “Why? Why here?”

“Because,” Adam started working on Blake’s jeans. “Every time you sit here,” belt pulled free, “I want you to think,” nudging him to lift his hips “of me,” stepping off to drag his pants and boxers down to pool around his ankles, “making filthy sounds,” Adam unzipped his own jeans, “as I ride your cock,” toeing out of his shoes, “how no one will ever know,” slipping out of the remainder of his clothes, “how we fucked in this chair,” Adam was back on his lap. “How this chair is what brought us together in the first place,” Adam’s hand trailed the red leather beside Blake’s head. It sounded odd, a chair bringing a couple together, but it’s true, their paths might not have crossed if they didn’t take the seats as judges.

“You fucking kinky sap,” Blake grabbed Adam’s face, cradling it in his palms, kissing deeply. Adam’s chuckle turned into a groan when Blake pushed his tongue into his mouth, sweeping the roof, tongues massaging.

“I’m so fucking ready,” Adam stroked Blake’s cock, lining it up to his hole.

“Wait, don’t we need,” the words trailed off when Adam just wiggled his eyebrows, shaking his head. “Fuck,” Blake groaned, the thought of Adam preparing for this, fucking stretching _himself_ , before arriving to the stage, “God, you drive me fucking crazy,” Blake thrust his hips up, sliding in balls deep with ease, not wasting any time and setting a fast pace.

“Shit,” Adam held his shoulders, using them as leverage, bouncing up and down, circling his hips and grinding. “Fuck, harder,” Adam moved erratically. “Deeper,” he growled.

“Shit, this angle,” Blake grasped the other man’s hips, pumping harder, “turn around.” Just as quickly as he left Adam’s body, as Adam changed position, he was back in, thrusting harder, fucking deeper as Adam held onto the front of the chair.

“Goddammit, yeah right there,” Adam grunted.

Blake trailed his hand up the length of Adam’s back, pressing him further down to the front of the chair. “Is this what you want Adam?” Hand firmly on hip, other hand now descending to wrap around Adam’s cock, pre-come slicking his hand as he stroked.

“Yes, fuck yes,” Adam hissed, body moving desperately.

“Shit, look how bad you want it,” Adam only moaned louder. “God you love it.” The pace became frantic, the need for release overwhelming.

“Blake, _shiiiit_ ,” he felt the warmth spilling on his hand, Adam’s body spasming around him, pulling out his own climax.

“Fuck,” Blake slumped back onto the chair, breath uneven. “Damn Adam,” he rubbed circles on the other man’s back.

“Oh god,” Adam still shook in his lap, head resting next the the button. “Goddamn that was fucking hot,” Adam slammed his hand on the button to lift himself up, chair coming to life, spinning them around to face the stage. Blake laughed as Adam tensed in surprise. “I swear I had no fucking idea I turned the chairs on.”

“You dipshit,” he only laughed harder.

—-----

The next day of taping as Blake settled into his chair, Adam quickly strode by, leaning down to rest his head next to the button, circling it with one finger, eyes lifting with an evil glint, “Happy taping Blake,” Adam moaned as he lifted himself up, grinning over his shoulder as he made his way to his own seat.

“What was that all about?” Usher questioned. Blake couldn’t even find the words to answer, his cock almost fully hard from the display and shifting in his chair only worsen the situation, remembering last night. That fucker, this damn chair could quite possibly be be the death of him.


End file.
